


until the rain

by fanfoolishness (LoonyLupin), LoonyLupin



Series: Starshine Over Beach City: Moments from Steven Universe [38]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Episode: s06e19 I Am My Monster, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23607856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/fanfoolishness, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoonyLupin/pseuds/LoonyLupin
Summary: One week after the incident, Steven is impatient for things to get back to normal, but the rain reminds him it isn't going to be so easy.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Series: Starshine Over Beach City: Moments from Steven Universe [38]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1523993
Comments: 15
Kudos: 126





	until the rain

It had been a week. The longest week he’d ever lived, and yet it’d slipped by in a flash, the days so brief and hazy he could barely remember them. A week since he’d transformed. A week since his sickness finally reared its head and roared its name.

He sat in his room at eleven AM, blinking sticky eyelashes and trying to convince himself to get out of bed. If he could just get out of bed instead of staying here all day, he could tell himself he was getting better. And that was what everyone wanted, right?

He _was_ doing better, Steven thought stubbornly, rubbing his eyes. He’d realized this morning, with a hint of pride, that he hadn’t glowed pink at all since the incident. That had to count for _something_ , didn’t it? _Maybe everything’s better now everything’s out in the open_ , he thought, remembering what he’d sung to Pearl once. He could almost believe it if it wasn’t for the way he still felt so wrong.

It didn’t help that his body felt alien to him in a way it never had before. His clothes fit, but they didn’t. Shirts stretched weirdly over his shoulders. His jeans felt too tight, but some days too loose. He tripped over the bottoms more than once. But when he undressed at night and looked at them closely, they seemed just the same as ever. Maybe he was just getting used to being human-shaped and Steven-sized again.

Adding to his disorientation, he found that his internal clock was off. Time had gotten smudged somehow. Mornings bled into afternoons, faded into evenings and the middle of the night. He slept long parts of the day away and lay awake at three in the morning. Meals broke up the hours somewhat, but he wasn’t up to cooking anything more complicated than a protein shake yet, and sometimes the Gems would make him breakfast at noon or Greg would swing by with takeout at nine PM. He couldn’t make sense of it. Not yet.

Maybe it was just the time difference from traveling to Homeworld. Or maybe he was still wiped out from transforming. Yeah. That was probably it.

Connie told him a schedule would help, that she would sit with him and make one up with him together when he felt ready. Greg tried to rouse him for a daily jam session. The psychologist that Dr. Maheswaran had referred him to, Dr. B., had also talked with him about starting a routine, but if Steven was honest, he barely remembered their first session the other day. He’d talked a little, and the doctor had talked some, and mostly he had sat there in silence: it was all a staticky blur in his head. He wasn’t sure if it was really going to help.

Especially since his memory was just as fractured as his sense of time. He’d already lost track of how many times he’d wandered into a room just to forget what he was doing, or trailed off in the middle of a conversation, leaving Amethyst or Pearl looking at him in concern. Part of him _hated_ those looks. 

But part of him was grateful. _At least they can see how messed up I am._ He felt a twisted sense of relief. This had to be better than bottling everything up, forcing it to explode when the pressure got too much. If they already knew how monstrous he could be, then he wouldn’t have to _convince_ them --

Yeah. This was better. His family knew he wasn’t okay, and that was most of the problem, wasn’t it? Now that they knew, things were sure to get better. He felt another flash of pride, looking down at his peach-toned hands, no hint of pink in them at all. 

Despite his weird sleeping habits, and the way the days felt stretched too long and over too quickly, and the way his skin didn’t fit him… he was happy about that. It was proof that things could get back to normal, even if they still felt strange now.

Maybe he was going to get better after all, sooner than everyone thought. He’d always bounced back from stuff before. Maybe he’d just go to the therapist for a few weeks, and get everything figured out. Heck, maybe he could do one better, maybe he could figure this out mostly on his own. Dad and the Gems and Connie knew, and they all wanted to help, and maybe that would be fine. 

Maybe that was a lot of maybes, but he tried not to think about that.

***

Late afternoon found Steven laying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, idly petting Lion curled up on the floor beside him. He hadn’t managed to get up out of bed after all. 

Beside him Lion purred. It was a low rumble vibrating in Steven’s chest, drowning out the sensation of his own heartbeat. It was comforting.

Distantly he became aware of the sound of rain against his window. For a moment, it lulled him. He’d always liked the sound of rain, the feel of the cold droplets against his skin, what the weather meant for the grass and trees and flowers. He adjusted his head against the pillow, getting drowsy, and the rain battered the side of the house --

_Running in the rain, her shards jagged in his palm, his chest burning, what did he do_ **_what did he do_ ** _\--_

He jerked out of his drowsiness, sitting bolt upright. “It’s fine,” he choked. “I’m _fine_ \--” Beside him, Lion stopped purring and raised his head, letting out a _whuff_ sound. 

Steven wavered, staring at Lion. He could ask Lion to find Connie. Maybe -- maybe he should -- but she was studying right now, wasn’t she -- wasn’t she _busy_ \--

He took a deep breath. Remembered her voice, far away and so, so close at the same time -- _Steven, you must have been so scared to show us this side of yourself._ Remembered her holding him later, just the two of them, when she whispered against his cheek to _please stop hiding_.

Okay. Okay. He could do this. _Needed_ to do this.

“Lion?” he mumbled. “Can you see if --”

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Lion roared and disappeared in a flash of light. Steven slumped down belly first onto the bed, staring out the rain-smeared window. He should have texted first. Or even called. She would probably send Lion straight back with a kind and apologetic text, telling him another time, telling him to talk to somebody else -- why would she want to talk to him when he was still so messed up --

“Steven?”

He blinked. Somehow he’d failed to notice Lion’s return, lost in his own thoughts. Connie sat down on the bed beside him, rubbing his back. He shivered at her touch.

“I’m sorry --” he started. Connie’s eyes flashed with sudden anger, and she leaned close to him, her eyes bright.

“ _Stop_ apologizing, Steven,” said Connie, and she looked so fierce and so worried he knew he couldn’t argue. “You needed me, right? You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

He gave her a quavering smile. “I guess I’d better listen to you, huh?”

“That’s more like it,” she said, and the fierceness slipped away, replaced with a gentle look that made his stomach flip. She swung her legs around, kicking off her shoes, and stretched out beside him, their shoulders and hips touching. She rested her chin on her fist and gazed at him, only a few inches away. “How are you today?”

He shrugged. The rain blatted against the window. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Steven closed his eyes. _Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl staring as he burst into the house --_ ** _where have you been_** _when they should have been asking_ ** _what have you done -_** _-_

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It’s just… the rain… I didn’t want to be alone.”

Connie was quiet for a moment. “I thought you liked the rain.”

“It was raining when I --” His mouth stumbled, forgetting how to make familiar sounds. He was tempted not to say anything at all. But Connie met his eyes, and he felt a pang. She at least deserved to know why he’d interrupted her studying and asked her to come all the way out here. 

He swallowed. “When I fought Jasper.” He didn’t say the other word.

She stiffened, just a little, and laid her head on his shoulder. “And the rain made you think of that?” 

“Yeah. It was raining when I --” He took a deep breath, a question aching in his chest. “Do you want to know how it happened?”

“I do, but -- only if you’re ready to talk about it. It’s okay if you’re not.” She stretched one arm out over his back, letting it rest against him, a small but comforting weight.

“I ran away,” said Steven, burying his face in his blanket. He spoke in a rush, his voice muffled by the thick fabric. “I thought no one would look for me out in the woods where Jasper lived. I mean, why would they, right? But I thought maybe she could help me, and maybe if I could just control these Diamond powers, then everything would be _better_ , everything would be _fine_.” He tensed, his hands digging into the blankets. The words tumbled out of him. “And if I couldn’t control them, then at least the only person I might hurt would be -- would be --” 

_Shards glinting in the rubble beneath the stormy sky -- his stomach convulsing, vomiting fish in the dirt on his hands and knees -- shrinking back to himself again, the fantasy over -- running home --_ **_running_ ** _\--_

“Steven?” Connie asked, worry in her voice. “You’re glowing again.”

“No!” He jerked away from her, nearly rolling off the bed in his haste. He leaped to his feet, backing away. “I -- I thought I stopped!” he gasped, staring at his luminously pink hands. “I thought it was _over_ , I thought I was done after that day on the beach, I haven’t turned pink since then --”

Connie reached out to him and he recoiled. “You shouldn’t be around me when I’m like this -- what if I -- what if I turn into that _thing_ again --”

“Then we’ll help you again. All of us!”

“But I don’t want to do that! I don’t want to be that!” he cried shrilly, his fingers knotting themselves into his hair. He bent over, trying not to be sick. His flesh prickled -- it crawled --

Connie’s hand was light but firm on his shoulder. He heard her words tinnily, as if from a great distance. “If you don’t want to be… then you won’t, right?”

“I -- huh?” It was so hard to concentrate, his heart was trying to explode out of his chest, his face swelled and shrank like a balloon -- _no, no_ , he thought he was getting _better_ \--

“Listen to me,” she said, and her voice cut through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. “Before. You said you were a monster,” she said softly. “And then that’s what happened. But if you don’t want to be one -- if you remember you’re Steven -- then you’ll be Steven, right?”

“I -- I guess --”

She reached up and took his hands by the wrists, slowly bringing them down to waist level. She cradled his hands in hers as he breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, blinking back tears.

“You’re Steven,” said Connie firmly. Her thumbs traced little circles on the back of his hands, and he focused on the feeling, soft aimless patterns against his skin. His breathing slowed, a little bit, a little bit more.

“I -- I know, but -- I just wanna be okay, Connie, but I’m _not_ \--” He faltered, his protests dying in his throat. What was he trying to say? Did he even know? 

Warily he remembered how he’d declared himself fine and shattered the glass in his door, and he kept his mouth closed, his lips pressed firmly together. _Don’t break anything, don’t mess up, not again --_

“You’re Steven,” Connie repeated. “And you’re _not okay_ right now. But you’re going to get better. And if it takes time, it takes time, you know? It’s hard… I’m not saying it won’t be hard.” She frowned, searching for words, and he strained to listen, to understand her.

“Like, graduating from high school takes _time_. Even when you cram. And it’s _hard_ and some days just don’t feel worth it and sometimes you just feel like you’re going _crazy_ with all the stress and the expectations and --” She managed a smile, blinking back tears. “But I know I’m gonna get there if I put in the time. So maybe think of this part of your life as… helping Steven school. You’re gonna go to therapy and you’re gonna cram and sometimes it’s really gonna _suck_ … but you’ll learn stuff. And you’ll get closer to getting better, all the time. Okay?”

He looked down at their hands. His were still pink against her brown skin. But they were the normal size, and they were steady, no longer trembling.

“That makes sense,” he mumbled. He blinked back tears, glancing away and hoping Connie didn’t notice. A memory from a few days ago flashed into his head. “It sounds kind of like what the therapist said.”

“Did you like him? Mom said she made sure to brief him on Gem stuff,” said Connie. She led him back to the bed, and they sat down on the edge, still holding hands. Steven laced his fingers into Connie’s.

“He was all right. I’m supposed to talk to him again the day after tomorrow.” 

“What did he say?”

“He said…” Steven bit his lip. “He said it’s gonna take time. To get better.” He hung his head. “I just… I hoped he meant like two weeks, or a month… I could do that. But if I’m still glowing and freaking out at things _now_ … Connie, what if this takes months? Or _years_? What if I _never_ get better?”

He started sobbing then, as the pink glow faded, as Connie swept him into a bonecrushing hug. He cried into her shoulder until her shirt was damp, his chest heaving, his arms clinging around her waist. He cried like he did seven days ago, beneath a sunny sky, the sound of waves in his ears.

He didn’t know how long it was until he settled down. Connie was rubbing his back with one hand, brushing his hair away from his forehead with the other. The rain pounded on the window, drumming louder than ever. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, lifting his head and scrubbing at his face with one hand. 

“For what?” Connie asked, smirking. “You did all the work.” 

He snorted. “If you call crying my eyes out work.”

“Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Huh. 

She was right. It wasn’t easy at all.

“How do you feel?”

“Better, I guess,” Steven said truthfully. He gazed out the window at the rain and the gray-black clouds, remembering what had turned him pink. He folded his hands in his lap. “I -- I don’t think I can talk about Jasper yet,” he admitted. “I thought maybe if I just tried to talk through it, it wouldn’t be so bad… but I can’t.”

“Maybe it just takes time,” Connie said. “You don’t have to deal with everything overnight.”

“But it’s already been a week,” Steven began.

Connie raised her eyebrows at him. “Steven? How long have I known you?”

He thought back, doing the math. “Uh…. four years? Almost five?”

“And how long has messed up stuff been happening to you?”

“If you count gem stuff… about five years. If you count living in a van as a baby after my mom died giving birth to me….”

Her brow arched even higher, and he had to laugh at himself.

“... okay, yeah, seven days might not be that much time to get better from all of that.”

“You see my point then,” she said matter-of-factly. “So.” She turned and looked out at the window, watching the rain. “What do you want to do now? ”

He hugged her again. “I know I already interrupted your studying, but…. could you stay a little while? Just -- just until the rain stops?”

“Yeah,” said Connie. “I can do that.” She kissed him on the cheek, her lips warm. And he wanted to kiss her in a different way, but part of him knew he wasn’t ready, knew he wanted to get better for her before he tried. 

The thought struck him, warmer and more comforting than the fact he’d avoided turning pink for a few days. It was a good thought. A brave thought. One that he held onto for a long, long time.

_I want to get better._

They lay back against the blanket holding hands, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling twinkling in the dim light, the storm outside fiercer than ever. And he remembered, just a little, how he’d always liked the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Writer's block hit me hard this week but I managed to get this out. Hope it says what I meant it to.


End file.
